Now Darkness Falls
by Lapulta J.R.R. Cahill
Summary: A song-fic/crossover concerning Isabel Kabra in prison.


**My first songfic, and probably my last, as I hate most songfics.**

**Now, if I hate songfics, I know you're asking, then why did I write this? I wrote it because one, it's unique - something I have to write with. Second, it's from Lord of the Rings. I was watching The Two Towers (AWESOMENESS!) when I listened to this song and pretty much heard Gollum in Isabel. Truthfully, I like Gollum a lot better than Isabel. Gollum is misunderstood. Isabel is just- evil. But they were still **_**so**_** similar. Three, I sat up all night thinking about it, so whether you like it or not- I still wrote it just to get it off my mind.**

**I had a conversation about this songfic with Eva. She's gone now- off the site, but I wanted to bring it up. I've only read one songfic in my life that I truly enjoyed. That was the one that I beta-ed, from OMG it's Rice. I honestly didn't want to write this, because I know it can be so much **_**better**_**. If I gave the idea to Syberian Quest, or Muse, or even Joyce, I'm pretty sure they would have been able to do a better job than me. But I couldn't ever give it to them, because it's **_**mine**_**.**

**So I'm afraid you'll have to suffer.**

**The next, and last thing I want to say, is that this is the first fic of its kind. But honestly, what other songs could you connect The Lord of the Rings, and the 39 Clues with? Answer me that. O.o**

**Credits; I don't own the Lord of the Rings, or the 39 Clues.**

* * *

><p><strong>Now <strong>_**Darkness**_** Falls**

**~!~****!****~!~**

Zurtax hated prison.

_It's only a summer job,_ he reminded himself for the seventeenth time that day. _Only a summer job. Make them feel sorry, anyway._ He yawned and flipped through his ipod playlist for a nice dispiriting song. He found a perfect one after a while. Turning on the speakers that the ipod was hooked to, he flipped a pair of earplugs in his ears and turned his US magazine to where he'd left off.

Jessica Simpson really _did_ look good in a poka-dot bikini.

* * *

><p><em>Where once was<em>_** light**__,_

_Now __**darkness**__ falls._

Isabel silently screamed out her rage and fury to anybody who would listen - not that anybody did as the depressing music played on. Her cell was a measly ten feet across, fifteen feet wide, and nine feet high. Cobwebs were on the ceiling. _Cobwebs!_ Those beastly little things that captured dust. And the dust! It was everywhere! Landing on her clothes - the stupid striped sweat pants - and everywhere else. There was no escape from it.

There was no escape from here.

The Vespers had visited her once, or perhaps twice - nothing special, just a few glances showing their utter contempt for a failure. _Is that what I am?_ Isabel ran her hand lightly over the jail bars - so iron-hard-wrought with their toughness. _Whatever happened to..._ To what? Isabel couldn't remember. The feeling was a fish in water, eluding her hard attempts to grab it.

_Where once was __**love**__,_

_**Love**__ is __**no more**__._

Pain ricocheted inside her though, pounding to be let out. How had she come to this? How had she lost - quite literally _everything_. Where was Vikram? Vikram who had promised with all his heart to be there for her. Where was he? A traitor - with Ian and Natalie most likely. _Perhaps..._ Another round of pain made Isabel's head spin. _Perhaps he never cared. At all._

But Vikram had _promised_.

He had promised to be beside her every step of the way. He had agreed to the contempt of her family pouring into his ears _because_ he wanted her. That one night, beneath the stars... His eyes had held love. So he couldn't have left. Perhaps he had just- just taken longer on the mission to South America than usual. Perhaps...

The possibilities were endless, and Isabel knew she would get wrinkles thinking about them.

_Don't say __**goodbye**__._

_Don't say __**I 'didn't try'**__._

But how could he leave? How could he just- say goodbye? To her, of all people? She had everything. Money, looks, fame. And then she even got him away from the clutches of that silly Irina Spasky. And this was what she got for it?

Nothing?

Prison?

Nine, by ten, by fifteen feet of solid metal?

_I tried._ She snarled to herself, beginning to pace back and forth. _I tried my best-_ and he had still said 'goodbye'. The Vespers had tossed their careless, hurtful words over their shoulders while leaving. _I tried,_ her voice choked. _I tried for Ian, tried for Natalie, tried for my family, as_ they_ were the only ones that- that deserved it._

Isabel's thoughts began to crumble, and then she couldn't think anything as her shoulders started to shake. Something wet trickled mercilessly down her cheek as one of its kind had never done before, but Isabel held her head high and resisted the urge to brush it away.

She was better than that.

_These __**tears**__ we cry,_

_Are falling __**rain**__,_

But she wasn't above sitting down on her disgusting, dust-stuffed cot and staring helplessly at the ground as inner conflicts beat her up. Tears dripped to the ground now, instead of landing on her face. _It's better that way,_ Isabel reminded herself. _Tears give you wrinkles._ They looked like little raindrops, pelting down and cleaning the floor slightly.

Isabel's shoulders gave a heave though.

What had she _done_?

She had obeyed them, instructed them, believed in herself, believed in her clan; her training, but she had _failed_. She had unbelievably failed her daughter- her son, and left them to their meaningless wanderings through the peasant world.

Isabel suddenly turned on the other side of her; the side that was always perfect, primped, and filled with prestige. There was none of that in prison, and while serving a life-sentence it wouldn't be needed at all. She didn't need it - didn't want it. Why did she have to have it? What was the good in that?

But- but where was the good in _her_?

_For all the __**lies**__ you told us-_

_the__** hurt**__, the __**blame**__!_

_And we will weep to be so __**alone**__,_

Isabel didn't know how long she'd sat there, mourning her lost life.

The blame was too much, and the worst of the pain. The Vespers nearly had the serum in their grasp. She could still see Victor's face in the audience of the court, glaring down at her as if she truly had done some horrible, deed. She had, in their eyes. Not hers, theirs.

_We are __**lost**__-_

_We can never go __**home**__._

And with that, her life had been sentenced.

The Vespers would never help her get out of this stupid place; they would never accept her as one of them. Vikram had turned his back on her. Of course, after all her years, she was just- too dirty to connect with anymore. And Ian and Natalie...

The tears stopped flowing instantly.

Isabel swallowed hard, and realized her throat was so thick with rage she could barely move her tongue. Ian and Natalie- those _brats_! Those _filthy_, little, _beasts_! _Those- those-_ Isabel couldn't even find words that expressed her anger. _They _were the ones that had betrayed her. All of them could have taken the others down easily. With her gun and the threat of having those loved killed-

_IAN AND NATALIE!_

Her brain screamed the words so loud Isabel almost smiled and wondered if the prisoners in the next cell could hear.

_So in the __**end**__,_

_I'll__** be**__ what I will be._

That would be funny. Truly funny if the guard would hear. What would they think of that?

Isabel stood up and brushed off her horrible striped outfit.

_No __**loyal**__ friend_

_was ever there for __**me**__._

If Vikram was gone, then the Lucians would never help her.

If Victor was gone, then the Vespers would never help her.

If Ian and Natalie were gone...

A smile slid across Isabel's face. Perhaps- perhaps they were just- _undecided_.

_Now __**we**__ say, 'goodbye',_

_We say; 'you __**didn't try'.**_

There were... persuasive techniques that she could easily use. Ian was still a boy, and Natalie- she was still a girl. And boys, of course, always were, just a _little_ bittoo attached to their girlfriends.

What did it matter if she didn't have the Lucians, or the Vespers. If she had Ian- just Ian, perhaps, then that would make the difference between night and day. Ian and Natalie?

The world had not yet seen pain.

_These tears you __**cry**__,_

_have come too __**late**__._

Pain, Isabel decided, was what the world needed. It had experience far too little of it. Now, its time had gone. The world would pay, and so would her cutoffs. The Vespers would be sorry they had scorned her- and Vikram?

A crooked smile slid across Isabel's face.

Vikram would die. _Slow_.

She would never cry again. The Lucians and the Vespers would never make her cry again. Vikram would never grab her with his benevolent speech and fine manners. She was better than him, and that was all that mattered- making Ian and Natalie better than their father had been, as well.

_Take __**back**__ the lies-_

_the__** hurt**__, the __**blame**__!_

And back to Victor? He could never lie to her again. Isabel grinned while examining the walls of the prison. She was untouchable now, a outcast from both branches. Victor couldn't control her, and like Vikram, he would never be able to harness her power again.

_And you will __**weep**__,_

_when you face the end __**alone**__-_

But she would be alone.

Isabel winced slightly, almost unnoticeably, as if her hand had run over a rough patch in the prison's metal wall. Alone was better, though. Luke Cahill, the loser, mostly - had been alone. He had the serum - the Lucian part, and she had it as well. Apparently people who were better, were alone. Perhaps it was more prestigious that way.

If she was alone, then she wouldn't have to bother with mindless fumbletons who didn't know their business. Isabel began to examine the wall once again. There was a crack in the metal work, since it was old, but nothing nearly big enough to file away at. She'd have to find another way out.

_You are __**lost**__-_

_you can never __**go home**__._

Glancing at the empty cell across from her, Isabel felt a flash of sudden, unusual sadness. This was it then. If she left- everything... _destroyed_.

_For the good of Ian and Natalie,_ Isabel reminded herself. _For their leadership. For them._

Gathering up all the strength she had, she let it out in an almost unearthly roar. "_GUARD!_" The fumbling American lad stalked down the stairs, an US magazine hanging from his left hand. A true fumbleton. Isabel stood in front of her door. "I demand something to eat, now!"

The guard snorted and came closer. Perfect. "Dinner's at six, oh, about... ten minutes away. Patience is a virtue, ever hear of that?" He felt comfortable, apparently, taking another step closer. "Did you ever-"

Isabel's hand shot out of the bars and closed on the boy's tie. She yanked forward, and his head slammed unceremoniously against the metal, making an enormous clanging sound that echoed throughout the room. Her victim crumbled unconscious to the ground.

_You are__** lost**__-_

_you can __**never**__ go home._

Isabel reached outside the jail cross-bars with a stony, impassive face. Running her hand along the man's side, she slid out the blank card key used to unlock her cell and the others' for their 'dinner'. Isabel smiled, twisting her wrist so she could slip the card into the unlocking panel.

Ian and Natalie were lucky.

They would live to see Isengard unleashed.

* * *

><p><strong>Everybody who reads this-<strong>

**You must review.**

**I don't care if it's just a little angry emocon face. Tell me. Say I was horrible- I sucked, or say I was awesome- I rock. It doesn't matter.**

**Say **_**something**_**!**

**Best wishes,**

**~Lapulta~**


End file.
